


For a Few Minutes More

by Shuufleur



Series: Bingo! [17]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Community: 100fandoms, F/F, Post-Season/Series 05, Trope Bingo Round 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-19 18:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19137838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shuufleur/pseuds/Shuufleur
Summary: "We are lucky that our fantasy is for the picking. We can go back in time, stand still or go forward." - Lida van BersJust this once, Sameen indulges in her fantasy.





	For a Few Minutes More

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for the _Food & Cooking_ square of the Trope Bingo Round 12 and the _fantasy_ square of the 100 Fandoms Challenge.
> 
> The [Zereshk Polo Morph](https://www.unicornsinthekitchen.com/zereshk-polo-morgh/) recipe that inspired this fic.
> 
> I hope I did Shaw and Root justice. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Sameen stopped in her tracks, grabbing the gun she kept holstered against her ribs, and silently opened the door to her apartment. She could smell food being cooked. She crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her. She checked her surroundings, but it seemed that the kitchen was the only room currently occupied. Someone was cooking in her kitchen; someone Sameen didn’t remember inviting.

As she approached the room, she could better discern the different smells. Her eyes fluttered at the smell of saffron, onion and tomato. There was also something else, but she couldn’t put a finger on it.

A clang and swearing brought her back to the present and the situation she was in. Clenching her jaw, she creeped closed and glanced inside the kitchen, gun raised and finger on the trigger. Whoever was cooking at her place was going to regret their decision, and fast.

Sameen’s heart skipped a beat when her eyes fell on the person who was in her kitchen. She could only see her from behind, but Sameen could have picked out that silhouette anywhere.

She straightened, letting her gun fall to her side, and walked in, voluntarily announcing her presence. It was hot in the kitchen but not unpleasant. It was the kind of heat that announced a hearty meal.

The silhouette stilled and turned around.

“Hello sweetie,” Root greeted with a smile, drying her hands on a dish towel.

“Root,” Sameen started to say, frowning from uncertainty, “What are you doing here?”

_You died._

The smile of the woman widened.

“I’m making dinner, don’t you see? I assumed you would be hungry by now.”

Sameen opened her mouth to say something, to say (you’re dead, how are you here?) but nothing came out. Or maybe there were too many things to say.

“Thanks,” she answered finally, her face slipping into her usual neutral expression.

Root laughed, the sound happy, and Sameen found herself longing for it. It had been so long since she last heard it.

“Come on, it’s almost ready, come eat. I made Zereshk Polo Morgh.”

Sameen’s lips lifted a little at the pronunciation.

“That’s not how you say it.”

Root rolled her eyes and turned back to the cooking.

“Sorry if my accent is not up to par, but my cooking is definitely better.”

“My mom used to cook this meal,” Sameen continued almost distracted as she sat down on the chair. She put the gun on the table knowing that Root wouldn’t mind.

“I know. You told me, remember?”

Root glanced at her, her face half hidden by her hair and her smile creating a shadow on her face. She looked at Sameen like she always did. With warmth and love. She looked at her like she was beautiful, flawless like a piece of code she would have written herself. It broke Sameen’s heart to see that look once again directed at her.

“And… done!” Root announced cheerfully, turning off the stove. She grabbed the first plate and started serving the food. When she was done serving the second plate, she turned to the table and put one of the plates in front of Sameen and the other on the opposite side of the table. As Root sat down, Sameen let her eyes wander on the food presented to her. Root placed the chicken thigh on the right of the plate, the saffranated rice surrounded it like a dam. She spread the barberries on the top of the rice. The heat, the aroma of all the ingredients made Sameen more sensitive than usual. Although she never ate Zereshk Polo Morgh again after her mother left, having Root making it for her had been a wishful thought that had crossed her mind once or twice before everything went to hell.

“Go on, Sameen, eat,” Root said with a smile, her head tilted on the side. “Close your eyes and tell me if it’s good.”

Sameen looked back at Root and stared. She wanted to commit her details to memory even though her mind wouldn’t let her forget. Her eyes travelled from Root’s wavy brown hair to her forehead, her sparkling brown eyes, the bridge of her nose, her mouth that was smiling and that Sameen kissed.

“Close your eyes Sameen,” Root said again, face serious and smile gone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sameen swallowed. She took a fork, scooped up some rice grains with barberries, closed her eyes and tasted the food.

The bitterness of the saffron, accompanied by the turmeric lifted the plate while the sour taste of the barberries and the sweetness of the tomato sauce soothed it.

It was perfect, Sameen thought with relish.

Bear whined beside her and Sameen sighed. Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at the dog.

The dog tilted its head on the right, then on the left. He used his snout to raise her arm and slip under it to rest his head on her thigh, his eyes still trained on her.

“I miss her too, Bear,” Sameen said, a voice a little shaky.

Away from her fantasy, the kitchen looked and felt nothing alike. It was now cold and lacked all the aromas she imagined. She looked down at her food; plain rice with chicken wings, and wished, not for the first time, that Root was still here with her.


End file.
